


Just Another Mafia AU

by BeastOfTheSea



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeastOfTheSea/pseuds/BeastOfTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Wesker knew that the time had come for him to get out.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Mafia AU

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** CAPCOM owns Resident Evil and all related characters. I am not CAPCOM.

 Wesker knew that the time had come for him to get out. 

The Marcus family had been good employers, but with the patriarch doting on those pathetic leeches he called children, it was bound to fall into ruin upon his death. He and Birkin had planned to stage a coup to salvage what they could, but Birkin’s increasing instability probably meant the cause was lost before it had begun.

Spencer was where the power was. The Ashford family had become an utter joke long ago, which was just how the other two families liked it – and had Edward Ashford's death, which had started the decline, truly been an accident? – and the ascension of its heirs hadn’t changed that. There’d actually been hints of hidden intelligence when Alexander had “gone into seclusion”, much like Ozwell Spencer himself, but the rumors from the moles in the Ashford family – and _that_ trainwreck had more moles than a melanoma patient – were simultaneously far more bizarre and far more pathetic: apparently, Alexander’s two psychopathic brats had locked their father away, keeping him drugged to the gills, and only let him get anywhere near lucidity when they needed a signature out of him. A fittingly pathetic coda to a pathetic career.

Of course, Birkin’s obsession had reached the point that, when Wesker had shared the news, he had only gone into a screaming fit about how Alexia was even better at him at figuring out _mind-control drug-cocktails_ and trashed his (newest) desk. It was fortunate that “Scholar Will” had never been a gun man, or they probably would have had a shoot-out at headquarters by now.

Wesker shrugged off the thought. Birkin had been a good colleague. It was a pity to lose him. But one had to throw away old junk.

Starting, of course, with his _dear_ S.T.A.R.S. squad. They were indeed quite competent. If they stumbled onto the wrong pieces of knowledge, they could make life very unpleasant for those under the umbrella of the Three Families.

It would be such a tragedy when a crooked informant led them into an ambush, leaving no survivors except for their beloved Captain Wesker. Ah – of course, _officially_ their brave Captain would die with them. The bodies would be too burnt to really tell, but they’d identify him from dental records.

Wesker grimaced and ran his tongue along his biological teeth for one of the last times he would ever do so. It was amazing what the Three Families’ scientists could accomplish with a bit of forensic forgery, but they still needed the raw material, as it were. He hoped denture technology advanced rapidly in the next several years.

Still. A minor sacrifice for a life as an officially-dead man (perhaps he would attend his own funeral, if he felt cocky enough), and an insignificant one for the chance to scale the ranks of the only Family that would still remain in Raccoon City by the time five years had passed.

He took one last good look at the loyal idiots around him, committing their faces to memory, and snorted. They thought of only their next paychecks, to be blown on booze and gambling and whores, and the settling of petty grudges.

He thought of only obtaining the power of a lesser god.


End file.
